New Theatre, Cardiff
Wed 15 Sept
★★
Turbulent multimedia tidal waves, sounds of thunder and the all-too-tempting uttering of those immortal lines, ‘all the world’s a stage/…and one man in his time plays many parts’, and lone actor Simon Callow stakes his claim as master both of his stage and of Shakespeare’s fictional and biographical worlds. The performer certainly handles the difficulties of a solo show well, and this is a strong beginning to a work generously scattered with beautiful and informative moments. Anyone who can maintain a constant lively monologue through a full-length show is worthy of some appreciation, and Callow conquers the difficulty of his isolation through incorporating a variety of accents, a multitude of poses and a subtle reconfiguring of script into prose.
With sword in hand and six syllables of roaring ‘Englalalalaland’, Callow cuts a formidable caricature. In another scene he softly weeps into a handkerchief with a subtly maternal anguish. Without doubt, he storms through Shakespeare’s repertoire with ease, basking in the smug knowledge of his own power. And rightly so, as it is hard to think of anyone more suited to the part. However, Callow’s capability in performance is perhaps his show’s true downfall.
Shakespeare the Megamix is significantly smaller than the sum of its parts. What this production constantly foregrounds is its debt to something much greater. The repeated phrase, ‘Brutus is an honourable man’, drawn out in various strains of raw emotion and accompanied by flames, highlights what’s missing and leaves the audience ultimately unfulfilled. It is at this point, if not before, that any true admirer of Shakespeare will remember there are thirty-seven plays far more worthy of their time. The work appeals to a niche audience whose specificity renders the purpose of the production questionable; indeed, this is an awkward biography tailored for those who already know everything about Shakespeare.
Ambitious it may be, Shakespeare, The Man from Stratford is more Laminated Book of Dreams than Complete Works, with Callow constantly reminding us of what The Bard has to offer, yet never quite managing to capture or deliver the magnificence of the originals. Feeding us the gorgeous words without letting us digest them, Callow dishes out all of the pleasure of Shakespeare’s texts yet none of the purpose. A certain not to be, there’s no question.
